The Night Has A Thousand Eyes
by thewretchedchild
Summary: GSR, Grissom gets bad news. Reviews highly adored.
1. The Night Has A Thousand Eyes

This is probably a one off, stemming from my frustration at the lack of anything progressive between Grissom and Sara. Naturally that meant I wanted some sort of totally angsty sorrowful regret from Grissom. Ahem. So I'm shallow. Sue me.. Actually, see disclaimer. Please DON'T sue me. = ) Anyway, if you want more, you'll have to let me know.  
  
Disclaimer: Right, 'cause, if I owned Grissom and Sara, I'd waste them the way CBS does. Um, NO.  
  
The Night Has a Thousand Eyes  
  
He sat by her bed and tried to remember a time when this pain hadn't infiltrated his entire being. He held her hand, but he couldn't feel it, because his skin was still numb.  
  
He remembered yesterday morning, sitting alone with an entomology textbook, eating, when the call came. When all the little regrets he had suppressed came rushing into his brain, falling over themselves for his attention.  
  
"Grissom." Her voice echoed down the line.  
"Sara? What do you need?" He was startled. He couldn't remember the last time she had called at home.  
"You have to come." He waited for her to tell him why, to explain what she wanted, to provide him with details, so he could fabricate some reason it wasn't possible for him to see her, but there was only silence. "Sara?" Nothing. "Sara!" Then he did hear a noise, through the line. Sirens. A common enough noise, but it filled him with dread. There was a crash, and he heard muffles voices. Suddenly, a voice came on the line. "Hello? Is any one there?" He forced the sound from his throat. "Yes." "May I ask who I'm speaking too?" "Gil Grissom. Who are you? Is my colleague there? I was just speaking to her and.." The voice cut him off. "Sir, I'm at the scene of a four car pile-up. I suggest if you want information, you meet the ambulance when it reaches the hospital." Hospital. His normal capacity for thought fled him, and he found the words 'hospital bad' repetitiously circulating through his system. The voice hung up before he could pull himself together enough to ask for more details, and he flung his phone from him. The resulting crash barely registered as he grabbed his keys and rushed out the door.  
  
That had been 32 hours ago. Since then, he had learned to hate all sorts of new words and phrases. Among them: "Just be patient, sir," "I'm sorry, you'll need permission from the family," "Please hold," "I'm sorry," and "coma." He especially hated the first one and the last one. They were wound about each other now, and he was certain that he would never be able to hear one without the echo of the other following.  
  
Everyone had told him to go home and get some sleep, that likely she would never know he had left, but he would know.  
  
Besides, she had asked for him. So he would be there, for as long as it took.  
  
He owed her that much. He thought back, trying to recall the last time they had really, truly talked, but he couldn't think of it. His cursed himself for avoiding her, putting her last in his life. And why? So he wouldn't get hurt?  
  
God.  
  
Nothing. Nothing could hurt more than this.  
  
Holding her hand and wondering if he'd ever see her gap toothed smile aimed his way again. Nothing could hurt more than remembering his cruel rejection of her affection. Nothing could hurt more than sitting there, holding her hand, with every missed opportunity tossing in his head. He tried to distract himself by summoning up some quote about how things all worked out in the end. Some trite saying that promised brighter times, but all he could think of was a poem by Francis William Bourdillon:  
  
The night has a thousand eyes,  
And the day but one; Yet the light of the bright world dies  
With the dying sun.  
  
The mind has a thousand eyes,  
And the heart but one: Yet the light of a whole life dies  
When love is done.  
  
It was all he could do to sit there and pray that the poem did not apply to him. 


	2. The Last

Thank you to all those who were kind enough to review the first part of this story, I so love to read (and yes, repetitively re-read) them. Hope you like this second bit! I wrote one with a sad ending too, but I decided it was to harsh. They are the same right up to the end, so the bulk of it is here, but if you want to see the other version, let me know. There are no spoilers, but a few lines that you should recognize if you've seen the episodes, like a bonus or something. = )

The Last

It was dark here, it was. Red, like the color of blood, in a barely lit room. It swirled, and it shown, and it wrapped her up. Made her dizzy.

dizzy

and fizzy

and soft

like champagne

Sara wondered if she would ever leave this dizzy place. In this world without substance, she had little to do but think, but her thoughts were slow, sliding through her head like honey. But in her now slow way, she thought of him.

He hadn't won

But she had lost

He had been the last to speak her name.

She remembered the edge in his voice. Impatient, like he always was with her these days. Disclaiming responsibility for hurting her. She could hear her own voice.

"That's a stupid reason."

The red swirled with greater intensity, as feelings of hurt, and honestly rage worked their way through, slowly. He hadn't had anything to say. Nothing for her. She wondered how she could have lost, when she had wanted it so badly. When she had prayed so hard. How it hurt to have lost, when he hadn't even won. Didn't even realize there was a prize. Didn't even realize there was a cost. Didn't see the honor in being last.

In this case, the last was the first. Her first thought after the world flipped, her last before the world turned red as blood in the dark.

He had been the last to speak her name.

"Sara? What do you need?"

"You have to come."

"Sara?"

"Sara!"

Sara. That was her name. It went with a world and a time and a place.

Damn Grissom and all his stupid reasons. Damn him and all the times she caught him looking. All the times he stood to close, or touched her arm to make a point, when there was no reason to touch her, and she knew it was just because he could help it. Damn him for saying things to give her hope.

"Since I met you."

Damn him anyway.

He wasn't here anymore. Wasn't apart of the dizzy fizzy world. And Sara liked this place. It was quiet, and soft. Sometimes he seemed so close though, like he was almost there. She knew it was only Ôcause she was thinking of him. Only because she loved him, and she was tired of being alone. Only her desires that made him seem so present. Sometimes she thought she heard him, chanting her name. Sara, Sara, Sara, Sara, Sara-

"Sara?"

See there he was again. Like she could reach out and touch him.

"Sara? Can you hear me? We miss you."

The red swirled, and streams of light and blue streaked through.

" I miss you."

Sara clung to her new world. It shown, and wrapped her up in peace.

"We're all waiting for you to come back."

But she turned away. To answer meant to pay a price. Damn him. Didn't he know he didn't win? Didn't he know she had lost? Didn't he realize it was an honor? To be the last.

"Sara."

He never had before. Never realized there was a prize. Never saw what it cost-

"You have to come."

-to love him.

She felt the blue and the light envelope the red, permeate it. She felt the air on her eyes. She blinked, overwhelmed to feel the presence of her physical body again. She did a mental check of herself, taking inventory of the sum of parts.

Her hand. It felt strange. She turned her head to look at it, only to see it was not purely hers, but apart of him. Wrapped up in Grissom's. His head was bowed over the hands, eyes downcast. She could hear him speaking softly, as if in prayer.

"You have to come. Because I love you. You have to come. So I can show you. You have to come. So I can make it up to you. So I can say I'm sorry. If you go, it's a price I can't pay, a life I can't live. Because I love you. Please, please come back Sara."

She swallowed, and felt the tube in her throat, leaving her unable to speak.

"Please." His voice broke.

Finally her hand obeyed her, and she contracted it, holding his as tight as she could. His head snapped up, and his eyes met hers. The silence in the room became absolute, before the sound of his breath, shaky and short, broke it. His eyes shut briefly, as relief flooded through him, before immediately reopening, as if he were afraid to look away. Afraid she would go again. And the words spilled out, firm, but rushed, because he had wasted so much time not saying them.

"I love you. Do you hear? I love you, Sara."

She nodded. Squeezed his hand again. Smiled.

That one wins

Doesn't lose

He is the first to speak her name.

Well then, I hope you liked that. I took shameless liberties with a poem call "Chanson of a Lady in the Shade" By Paul Celan. No infringement is intended.

I always, always love reviews, so let me know what you think, and if it needs to go any further.


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